Secret Agent Bots!
by Epiwsedis
Summary: A Skids and Getaway special ops fic, loosely based on James Roberts' concept from the IDW comics. Thanks to the tfwiki caption for the name!
1. The Briefing

_This is loosely based on the "Special Operations" plot mentioned in IDW's More Than Meets The Eye. I wanted to do a story where Skids and Getaway start working for Prowl and the 'Diplomatic Corps' - any and all reviews, constructive feedback etc appreciated, it's the only way I can get better!  
_

_Transformers, and all characters belong to Hasbro.  
_

**Chapter 1: The Briefing**

Autobot High Command was an imposing facility in the centre of Iacon. Heavily fortified, and bristling with missiles, cannons and electronic scramblers, it was built to withstand all but the most cataclysmic of Decepticon assaults.

Deep within the bowels of this imposing structure, two Autobots who had never met, or even heard of each other before were admitted to a secluded room to sit before a panel of three of High Command's most vaunted characters.

The panel were seated at a long desk, and the central figure flipped open a holo-screen and began to speak.

"Interview Process for Mission 0199-0205 - High Command representative and overall Mission Sponsor Prowl speaking. Interviews commencing. Would the rest of the panel please identify themselves for the record?"

Flanking Prowl were two figures, one smaller and sleekly built, the other a bulky powerhouse. The smaller one spoke first.

"Jazz, Head of Special Operations, present."

"Springer, leader of Autobot Strike Team of Last Resort code-name Wreckers, present."

Prowl spoke again.

"Would the interviewees please state their names and current functions for the record?"

Two Autobots sat opposite the panel. One predominantly blue, one white. The blue one leaned forward slightly towards the holo-screen, and spoke clearly.

"Skids, Theoretician - Strategy and Logistics Department."

The other robot made no move as he spoke.

"Getaway, Specialist - H.L.E.T - Hostile Location Extraction Team."

Satisfied, Prowl, flipped a switch and another holo-screen lit up, illuminating the panel in a blue hue.

"Autobot forces are currently over-matched and sustaining heavy losses in the Laroine Expanse. Decepticon forces and equipment are far greater than any intelligence or strategical reports gave us reason to suggest. A covert mission has established why."

The holo-screen flickered to display a large planet. Jazz took up the speaking duties.

"This is the planet Selpus IV. An organic world, which is non-Council and declared itself as neutral in the Cybertronian conflict. It was considered to be of little strategic value, being too far away from the main hostilities to render any advantage. Unitl now."

Jazz flicked a switch and several images started to repeat, showing a huge refinery.

"Approximately two years ago, unbeknownst to us, a Decepticon mining operation was established. A rare high-yield Energon ore is believed to be present, and the local population has been enslaved. We need that operation stopped."

Prowl smoothly stepped in.

"This is not a normal wartime operation. Normally we'd either commence orbital bombardment or send Springer and the Wreckers in. However, any observed direct Autobot involvement in any operation which would cause damage to a neutral and non-aligned world would have disastrous repercussions with the galactic community at large. This needs to be subtle."

Springer addressed the two interviewees.

"We can't use brute force, which rules the vast majority of Autobots with a handgun and a death-wish out of this. We also cannot send Jazz, Prowl, myself, Ironhide or any of the other 'famous' Autobots. The moment an Autobot with a rep shows up, even more Decepticon resources will be transferred to protect it. You two are here because not every Autobot can be famous. But they can still be good at their jobs, and I'm told that's precisely what you guys are. Jazz?"

Springer turned to the smooth-talking 'bot as he rose from his chair and brought up a holosceen on the back wall. A fuzzy image of a Decepticon wearing ostentatious regalia was shown.

"This is Decepticon High Lord Straxus. He appears to be in overall charge of the Selpus IV operation. A very high-ranking Decepticon, however our intelligence suggests friction with Megatron and the Military High Command. Straxus wants the war to be over, his main interests being power, status, enslavement of lesser beings and genetic supremacy. His high-yield Energon return from this outpost will have him in Megatron's good books, however, it shouldn't take much to change that around, and that's where you come in."

Skids spoke up.

"I think I see the plan here. We infiltrate a heavily-fortified Decepticon Energon-mining operation, sabotage it without appearing to be involved, somehow make Straxus look incompetent in front of Megatron, get out by ourselves as any noticeable Autobot force will be taken out with extreme prejudice, and then watch as Megatron tears Straxus apart."

"That all?" asked Getaway sarcastically, "why not ask us to liberate Cybertron and start a new Golden Age while we're at it?"

"I understand your concerns," said Prowl, ignoring the tone of Getaway's comments. "This is as tough an assignment as we have ever given out. But we believe you two are the best 'bots for the job. The full resources of the logistics departments and the experimental weapons facility are yours. Formulate a plan, tell me what you need and any equipment we can supply will be custom built to your specifications. We've cleared a set of rooms in the sub-basement of this building for you. Everything you should need is there, contact me if you need anything else."

"Get to know each other." Springer advised. "It's gonna be the two of you down there, and you need to be able to rely on each other, trust each other and know without thinking how each other will react in pressurised situations."

"That should be all," Prowl informed them curtly. "Briefing closed."

The three man panel upped and left and Skids and Getaway looked at each other, bemused.

"Well," Getaway ventured, almost apologetically, "I suppose we should get started."


	2. The Plan

Chapter 2 – The Plan

Skids sat at his workstation in his and Getaway's suite in Autobot High Command. It had been two months since they had taken up residence in a small set of rooms in the sub-basement. It was cramped, but they had workstations, secure communications, and all the relevant information to their mission.

One thing Skids had noticed with interest was Straxus' psychological profile, which had been put together by Rung and his team. Straxus had been a candidate for high office before the Decepticon movement had began, as a far-right exponent of segregation and ghettos for those constructed cold, and also a firm believer in form dictating function (Straxus himself, was, of course, alt mode exempt). He had also been vehemently in favour of empurata for outliers. Skids, as an outlier, had shuddered at the very prospect.

Given Straxus' political beliefs, it was little wonder that he clashed with Megatron, who, in a previous existence had been a lowly miner from Tarn. War made capricious allies however, and Straxus had joined the Decepticon movement, and, with ruthless cunning and brutality, murdered his way up to a position on the Conclave.

Getaway's arrival broke Skids reverie. The pair of them had hit it off famously since their first meeting at the briefing. Skids wondered if it was the fact they were both soon going to face death together that had made them bond so quickly.

"That's the first modification for the mission done." Getaway said as he plonked himself down in a chair next to Skids, flexing his left forearm.

"When's the next op scheduled?"

"Tomorrow evening. Third one the day after that. Final components are being shipped over from Kimia. Apparently they aren't to spec, but are even better."

"As long as they can't be detected, that's the main thing."

"I've never met any of the weapons engineers from Kimia, but they make some brilliant stuff. Skyfall even made Prime's gun. You hear that thing on the battlefield, you know the 'Cons are in for it. Anyway – have we found a suitable holiday spot for me to get sold into slavery from?"

Skids smiled at Getaway's cheery impudence. After looking over the mission from many angles, they had both decided they needed a man on the inside of the facility on Selpus IV, and given how Getaway fancied himself as an escape artist, he had been only too eager to embrace the opportunity of a new life as part of Straxus' slave workforce.

"I'm still looking for a spot. If an Autobot shows up on Selpus IV, they'll suspect something is up. And probably kill you. We've got a couple of leads on some of the more prominent slavers in that section of the galaxy. Space Station Constancy is looking our best bet. Prowl still thinks you should lose the badge and get yourself captured as a Non-Aligned Cybertronian."

"Did you tell him the plan doesn't work that way? Straxus pays a premium for Autobots. That's our guaranteed way in. Otherwise I could end up a slave somewhere only Kup has ever heard of. And none of us want that. Except possibly Prowl from the sound of things," he added as an afterthought.

Getaway went quietly back to flexing his arm and examing the modifications made. Skids turned and watched him, thinking over events to himself. Both he and Getaway had completely immersed themselves in this task. Skids knew he wanted to take Straxus down, and take him down hard, he had his reasons. Getaway too had thrown himself completely into the task, brainstorming ideas, offering possibilities, and now having slight alterations made to his physiology to accommodate various tools required for the inside job.

Skids was a theoretician, and he suddenly had a realisation as to why these two, of all the 'Bots in existence had been chosen for the job.

"Getaway," he began, "you were constructed cold weren't you?"

Getaway continued to examine his arm, but nodded his assent.

"Mmm-hmm," he responded, trying too hard to appear non-committal. The issue of forged versus constructed cold had been a simmering flashpoint before the war. Old divisions were ignored, but in some cases still lurked below the surface of common causes.

"That's why we were picked for this mission. Neither of us fits Straxus' plan for a Master Cybertronian Race. We were both around when he had his far-right political aspirations."

"If by 'far right political aspirations' you mean 'psychopathic supremacist dogma' then yes, I was around back then, and it still sizzles my circuits to recall it."

"And you would have been deemed inferior. Just like me – I'm an outlier."

Getaway turned to face Skids. "You think Prowl deliberately chose us because we both stand against Straxus' beliefs?"

"I think in terms of the mission, it's more likely to have us do anything, even if it all goes wrong, to get the job done. I suspect he would rather the mission was done, and we not come back, than us return safely with the refinery still standing."

"You're the theoretician. But let's hope it doesn't come to that, eh? Besides, your part in the plan involves being armed to the teeth and staging a rescue of little old me. If we're gonna team up, we better learn to rotate who plays the hero."

A beeping noise and flashing red light on Skids' monitor indicated an incoming message. He pressed a button and a holograph of Jazz's face appeared from the desk-installed communicube. His visor appeared to be twinkling with static.

"Skids, Getaway, we're in. Springer's guys managed to find a suitable slaver ring operating out of Constancy. The front is smuggling refugees out at high costs. The refugees pay big money to escape areas hit by war or instability, and instead of escaping are sold into slavery. The head of the ring is a Cybertronian exile named Thebes. We'll send you a datapack about the crew and where they operate out of. Six thousand shanix is their usual price. Springer…erm…seems to think our expense will be…recovered…once you are on Selpus IV, Getaway."

Skids was sure Getaway was smirking behind his faceplate. Neither 'bot was naive enough to presume that Springer's retirement plan for Thebes and his slavers involved a comfortable retirement on a luxury planet. The Wreckers were not known for offering retirement packages with healthy benefits.

Jazz continued, "We have a battered old double seater shuttle, and an associate who will drop you off on Constancy. You know the drill. Lie low, hang around in bars, ask questions, and then approach the mark. If they see you arrive and then straight away go up to a slaver, they'll figure something's up."

"Don't worry Jazz," Getaway reassured him, "It'll all go to plan."

"I hope so – good luck guys. Jazz out."

Skids snapped the communicube off, and whirled in his chair to face Getaway, a broad grin etched on his face.

"A couple more modifications, and then it's time for you to get captured, enslaved, and quite possibly beaten and tortured at the hands of slavers and a Decepticon tyrant. Looking forward to it?"

Getaway's optics flashed with mischief.

"I like to be kept busy where possible. Can't wait!"


	3. Constancy

Part 3 – Constancy

Getaway ordered a weak Energon quart from a disinterested server, and moved to an unoccupied booth at the corner of the bar, sitting with his back to the wall so he could survey the entire room. He had been on Constancy for five days now, and caught sight of his mark two days earlier. A lot of illegal business was done in this bar, _The Leisure Hive_, where it looked like management were getting a cut to allow slavers and smugglers to do business in their private rooms.

He had already made discreet enquiries to a couple of nobodies down the docks about passage to the outer systems, noting that he'd prefer to avoid any Cybertronian encounters where possible. They had pointed him in the direction of several seedy bars, and Getaway had frequented them all. If anyone was noting his movements and questioning the people he had spoken to, he needed to ensure the stories checked out. He simply had to appear as a naïve Autobot who had deserted and wanted to get himself as far away from the Cybertronian War as possible.

The quart was weaker than any he had ever tasted, 2% Energon in there tops, he mused to himself. For the prices charged he had expected something a bit better. He looked around, making optic contact with a few interested punters who eyed him warily. Autobots and Decepticons were not particularly welcome in most establishments or locations, given the vast quantities of destruction that usually followed in their wake. He leaned back in his chair and downed his drink, then signaled to the nearest member of the bar-staff, a Nibarian, to bring him another.

The Nibarian quickly acquiesced to his request. "Don't get many Autobots on Constancy, will you be staying long?" the Nibarian enquired, politely.

"Don't worry," Getaway reassured the alien. "As soon as I can find suitable transport, I'll be off this scrap-heap of a space station."

"Back to fight in the war, eh?"

"My war - if I have any say in the matter - is over, alien," he muttered darkly.

The Nibarian scuttled off. Getaway lowered his head, but his optics trailed the alien as it scuttled off into one of the private rooms. Perfect, he thought to himself. Hopefully his embittered veteran deserter routine would soon have him an offer for transport. If the bar-staff were in on the slaving racket, the Nibarian would surely know he could get a good finders fee for an Autobot. He leaned forward, his head resting on his left hand and turned his head away from the bar. He placed his right arm on the table and tilted it so the entire room was reflected in it. Most of the patrons were now ignoring him. He moved so the door the barman had gone through was visible clearly.

The door to the private room opened and the barman re-emerged, with a Skuxxoid and a Jabbi-Ko in attendance. The Nibarian pointed towards Getaway, who made no move. The door closed and the two newcomers moved towards the front door. Behind his faceplate, Getaway's mouth curled in a joyless smile. A Cybertronian emerged from the room and made his way over to Getaway, who turned and, head down, stared into his drink as if the mysteries of Primus could be solved within.

"Mind if I join you?" The mech stood before Getaway was tall, with a black and white colour scheme and an intimidating pair of shoulder cannons that put Getaway in mind of the Combaticon, Onslaught. His body language was open, as he stood with one palm out, and the other motioning towards the free seat in the booth. From the file on Thebe's gang, Getaway recognised him as Screenshot, a non-affiliated Cybertronian with a criminal record as long as Whirl's transgression list.

"Do what you like, but I'm not big on conversation." Getaway's response was as non-committal as he could make it, with a carefully practiced shrug of indifference accompanying his words. The Onslaught look-alike sat in the chair and signaled to the bar for a drink for both himself and Getaway, which arrived promptly.

"Have one on me, friend. Us ex-Autobots need to look out for each other in a place like this."

Getaway eyed the drink suspiciously. He sat back and folded his arms, assuming a defensive posture.

"You'll forgive me for appearing ungrateful, but I'm not in the habit of accepting suspicious drinks from strange mechs in bars of ill-repute."

"Haha! A wise attitude, newcomer. My name is Screenshot, I'm an ex-Autobot like you. I managed to lose the badge however." Screenshot nodded at Getaway's still prominent Autobot badge. "Keeping that on display attracts all kinds of unwanted attention on a place like this."

He picked up the drink he had bought Getaway and took a sip, to prove it was not spiked. That's the opening, Getaway thought to himself.

"Well, I don't intend on hanging around long enough to draw any attention. I intend to get as far away from here - and the war - as possible as soon as I can find transport. Thanks for the drink though."

Switching on his fuel-inhibition chip with a thought, he raised the glass to his companion and ostentatiously took a swig of heavily diluted Energon.

"You know," Screenshot began, coyly running his finger around the edge of his pitcher "I have a friend who is going out to the far systems in Sector 5 from here tomorrow. I could put in a word for you. He might need a little…financial incentive…to take you along though?"

"No offence to your 'friend', but I wasn't forged yesterday. I wanna see the ship, and I'd need to meet the pilot before I hand over my money to any old stranger in a bar. Call it my natural caution, if you have to."

Screenshot's optics flashed momentarily with annoyance but he kept his affable pretense up. "That can be arranged, no problem. His name is Thebes, I can arrange for you to meet him here tomorrow, early before he goes. You'll need to make your mind up though – it wouldn't take much for someone around here to tip-off the Autobot Command. Last thing we want is Ultra Magnus arriving and arresting someone is it?"

Getaway tried his best to remain inscrutable.

"That would be…very unfortunate… for anyone who decided to tip-off the Autobots."

Screenshot smirked and sneered at Getaway, his facade slipping. "Deserting and fancying you can over-match or elude Ultra Magnus long enough to garner retribution on an informant? Looks like you fancy yourself as pretty hot-stuff. I'll tell Thebes he might have to bow to the matrix-bearer should he bump into you."

Getaway leaned forward, feeling the endgame approaching. He knew how this was gonna play out, and while it would hurt him in the short-term, he knew that Screenshot would soon be engaged in a waste-sluicing contest with the barrels of the Wreckers guns on-board the _Xantium_. Shame he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Your sales pitch could do with a little work, friend. Now I'm gonna leave. If you know what's healthy, you and your friend will stay outta my way 'til I'm off this dump."

Getaway stood and barged angrily off, past the two henchmen to the side of the door. If intel was current, they'd soon be following him and he'd soon find himself over-powered. He deliberately set off to the unloading decks, less chance of innocent passers-by getting hurt in the melee. The plan had him going without a struggle, but he was determined to land a few shots on Screenshot before he inevitably went down.

Sadly, he had barely turned the corner when three tazer blasts knocked him off his feet. He struggled to stand as a the butt of a Skuxxoid gun slammed into the back of his head. Twisting he avoided a follow-up shot to the neural cluster, which would have temporarily taken him offline, and swept the legs of the nearest attacker from under him. Red mist descended on his optics as he realized that he was outnumbered six to one. Screenshot ambled up to make it seven, and leveled a tazer gun at Getaway.

"Say goodnight, hero," he smirked as he fired. Getaway transformed, ducking the charged coils and drove straight at Screenshot, taking him off his feet, in another dizzying blur of metal, fueled by anger, he returned to robot mode and began pounding the stunned Screenshot before he was submerged by the weight of the full gang, he was raised to his feet, arms pinned and a flurry of fists reduced him to near offline status. The last thing he saw was Screenshot measuring him for a tazer blast to the neural cluster.

_I love it when a plan comes together_ he thought to himself, and then darkness took him as he switched mercifully offline.


End file.
